


Ain't We Got Fun

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 1920s New York City, AU, F/F, Harry Potter Universe, Historical AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8609608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: Jemma is more than happy to accompany her boss on a mission for the Ministry of Magic; it beats paperwork and writing Owl Post any day. But the Magical Congress of the United States has different ideas about how witches and wizards should interact with Muggles and what seem like simple and easy to follow rules are complicated by one particularly charming No-Maj and a little bit of dark magic. (A Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them AU)





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> So I feel like this is less a "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" AU and more a historical fiction 1920s AU with magic and Skimmons but there are a few things borrowed from the movie so if you don't want to know anything about FBAWTFT before you see it then maybe turn back! You also don't have to know anything about the movie to get this story...I think. 
> 
> Also I'm planning for this to be two parts but this is the first time I've posted a story without having it finished so pray for us all.

Jemma Simmons is fresh out of Hogwarts when she approaches the Ministry of Magic in hopes of finding a job as an Auror and putting all those years of extensive training to good use. Despite her top marks, aforementioned training and dedicated go-getter attitude (which her Mum had assured her only hours before would be endearing and relatable), the Ministry seems to want little to do with her. Jemma is pretty sure that when the head of the Auror Office takes her on as a secretary, it's only because the woman feels sorry for her.

Jemma is certain that there are worse things in the wizarding world (and the Muggle one for that matter) than working for Peggy Carter. She is the greatest Auror the Ministry has seen in several decades and has an impressive list of deeds and captures. Though no one has ever proved the rumor, Jemma definitely believes it when people say that most of the occupants of Azkaban are there because of Peggy. While Jemma would prefer to be out there in the world, following in the footsteps of her idol and putting away nefarious witches and wizards, she's grateful to be working for the Ministry at all.

Even if filing papers, filling out reports and writing and sending Owl Post on Peggy's behalf is not exactly what she had in mind.

It's hard for her to resist the urge to jump for joy when Peggy asks her to accompany her on an assignment to New York City. She's never been across the ocean before, never really been anywhere but London and Sheffield and Hogwarts so Jemma spends the weeks before the trip reading as many wizarding newspapers as she can, trying to brush up on her knowledge of New York City and its wizard population.

Before she leaves, Jemma's parents have her over for supper and cry and coddle her like she's going off to her first year at Hogwarts all over again. Jemma tries to be sympathetic but all she's thinking about is boarding the ship and taking off for America. She's the only other Ministry employee making the trip and she can only hope that Peggy has invited her along because she sees the potential in her, not because she needs an assistant and a secretary.

On the trip over, Peggy tells her that they're heading to New York to investigate the potential of a mole within the Magical Congress of the United States, someone who is siphoning off information to the growing faction of dark wizards, followers of Grindelwald. "I need an extra pair of eyes and ears," Peggy tells her, "someone they won't suspect."

Jemma forces herself to look composed, collected and competent when she really wants to start jumping around like a little kid on Christmas Day.

So, the infamous Peggy Carter needs a secretive assistant, someone she can rely on. Jemma can definitely handle that task.

When they arrive in New York, Jemma feels like there's so much about the city that hasn't been captured in the newspapers she's been reading. The articles seemed to carry an underlying sense of fear in them, the idea that the delicate balance of the world is teetering dangerously, always one step from falling into chaos. But all Jemma can sense from the people around her is excitement, contentment and normalcy. There are so many people, dozens and dozens of them on the sidewalks, crossing the streets, zipping along in motorcars and ducking in and out of stores. There are women in long dresses and thick fur coats, some with wide brimmed hats and long hair, others with short bobs and bejeweled head pieces. The men are in suits and vests, hats perched firmly atop their heads as they rush from one important errand to the next. There seems to be someone or something happening on every street corner and Jemma doesn't know where to look.

Jemma does her best to look indifferent and focused as she follows Peggy through the crowd and down the sidewalks, but it's difficult to keep her eyes from wandering. There's a bakery boasting a wide array of Christmas pastries and sugared candies; a clothing store has mannequins dressed in skirts shorter than the one Jemma is currently wearing and she wonders what her mother would say about that particular style. A theatre on the corner is advertising for the night's performance of the Ziegfeld Follies and the crowd moves past a lone man on the sidewalk, protesting the indecency of the show and the speakeasies lurking just under decent New Yorkers' noses.

"Now remember," Peggy begins and Jemma forces herself to snap to attention, quickening her pace so that she's walking beside the other woman, "we're here to act as a liaison between the Ministry and the Congress. We're meeting Antoine Triplett and he's aware of our cover."

Jemma nods easily; she's filed this information away, happy to have a cover story in place in case she's put on the spot about her purpose for being in New York.

"The Americans have different beliefs about magic and magic use than we do," Peggy continues. "You can't let any Muggle see you use magic, under any circumstances. If you can, try not to talk to or interact with the Muggles at all."

Jemma looks at her, unable to hide how wide her eyes have become at that particular statement. "Don't talk to Muggles?"

Peggy makes a face. "They're funny about things here," she says, almost dismissively. "You know how Americans can be, they like things separate and kept tidy. They don't believe wizards and witches need to interact with Muggles under any circumstances." She shrugs. "It's best to follow along with their rules while we're here."

"Seems a bit antiquated," Jemma mumbles at they reach the department store where the Congress is located.

Peggy only gives her a look, unsuccessfully trying to hide her smile.

* * *

 

Peggy gets wrapped into a meeting with Triplett and Melinda May, the head of the American Auror department and she dismisses Jemma with the instructions to locate the boarding house they'll be staying in and drop off their luggage. But Peggy lets her gaze linger a beat before returning her attention to May, a silent indication that she's supposed to do what they previously discussed: keep her eyes and ears open at all times.

Jemma doesn't mind being back on the streets and in the midst of the chaos of New York City. Since she took her job at the Ministry, she's almost constantly surrounded by wizards and witches and other magical beings. There's something oddly thrilling about being close to so many Muggles, about seeing how they dress and what they do every day. In a way, she's always felt bad for them; their lives have to be so empty and colorless without being able to feel and understand and control magic. To be so unaware of its existence, to be incapable of harnessing those threads of the universe just seems like such a tragedy. But feeling sorry for someone and absolutely shunning them are two different things; Jemma isn't entirely sure that she can understand the American wizards' way of thinking.

Though her sympathy and interest in Muggles disappears almost instantly when a man walks up to her and snatches away one of her suitcases, running down the street. It takes her about two seconds to realize that she's been mugged and she lets out a noise of protest, running after the man. No one else seems interested in her plight, watching as the man goes running by with Peggy's things, doing nothing to stop him despite Jemma's shouts for him to stop. She reaches into the pocket of her coat, closing her fingers around her wand but there are so many Muggles around and it wouldn't do too much good to get into trouble within the first hour of being in America. She wonders if Peggy would rather get her stuff back or uphold the American's wishes for secrecy.

Even though Jemma resists the urge to fire a spell in his direction, the man goes sprawling onto the sidewalk all of the sudden, landing in a tangle of limbs and causing Peggy's suitcase to go skipping down the street. Jemma quickly pulls her hand away from her wand, just in case she managed to cast a spell purely by wanting to stupefy this man. She skids to a stop, staring down at the man, confused.

It all clicks into place when Jemma notices that she's not alone in studying the stunned man on the sidewalk. There's a girl standing over him as well, a smug look on her face as she looks at the man. She prods him with her foot. "Think about that next time you decide to steal someone's stuff," she says dismissively, leaning down to pick up the suitcase.

The man gets to his feet, slinking off before either of them can raise the alarm. Jemma looks at the girl, surprised, as she hands back Peggy's suitcase. "Here you go, doll," she says. "Though you probably should be more careful. Everything about you just screams tourist. You're a pretty tempting target."

"Oh…yes…I suppose you're right." Jemma can't help but look down at herself. The suitcases are a dead giveaway and she feels like her style of dress doesn't help much either. "Thank you for your help."

The girl shrugs, flipping her hand dismissively. "I hate bullies," she says. "I'm Daisy, by the way. Nice accent."

"Thank you," Jemma says even though she's not entirely sure it's actually meant to be a compliment. "I just got in today and-"

"Like I said," Daisy interrupts. "Tempting target. Where are you staying?"

Jemma tells her the name of the boarding house: The Griffith, run by a witch strictly for other witches in the city, unbeknownst to the Muggles in the surrounding buildings. The matron, Ms. Fry, is expecting them and has their room ready.

"Oh, I know that place," Daisy says. "Fancy. You're not related to the Queen, are you?" It takes Jemma a second to realize that she's talking about the Muggle Queen and only a second longer to realize that she's teasing her. "You want me to show you the way?"

Jemma looks at her carefully. "Why?"

Daisy shrugs. "You seem like you could use some extra muscle," she jokes and then rolls her eyes at Jemma's suspicious look. "I'm not going to try and rob you too. Though that would be quite the scam."

Jemma lifts an eyebrow. "You did just say I was an easy target."

"Well, now you've learned your lesson, courtesy of the New York streets." Daisy reaches out and takes one of the suitcases from Jemma. "Come on, it's not far. And really, my motivation is purely selfish: I just want to see what this place looks like on the inside."

Her comment and something about her smile and demeanor make it easier for Jemma to relax and she finds herself following after Daisy. It's not like she's completely helpless after all; if it came down to it, she could whip out her wand and take care of Daisy faster than she could blink.

But Daisy seems to be the friendly stranger she's making herself out to be. She talks as they walk, pointing out buildings and shops and offering the type of comments that Jemma figures wouldn't appear in any guidebook. Daisy has her hair cut short into a bob and she's wearing one of those shorter skirts, her coat hanging down past the fabric. She looks almost mismatched in these clothes, a far cry from the more elegantly dressed women that Jemma saw when she first arrived in the city with Peggy. It's almost as though the skirt is short and the coat long because they didn't originally belong to Daisy, with her dirty finger nails and scuffed shoes.

"Ta da, here you are," Daisy says, gesturing toward a building that towers above them. "Delivered safe and sound, as promised."

Jemma smiles, following Daisy into the lobby of the Griffith. "I suppose I'm in your debt for showing me the way. And for helping me get my suitcase back."

Daisy dismisses the idea. "Hey, we're jake," she says. "Like I said, I just wanted to see this place. It looks even fancier than it does on the outside."

Jemma glances around the lobby; it's a large space, neat and orderly with some framed art pieces on the wall and a pair of plush arm chairs in the corner. She's sure there are nicer places in New York but she doesn't point this out to Daisy.

Ms. Fry is heading in their direction, a smile on her face. She introduces herself to Jemma, shaking her head and studying Daisy out of the corner of her eye. "I thought you were coming with Margaret."

"Oh, I did," Jemma assures her. "She's currently in a meeting. Daisy just helped me find the place." She smiles over at her new friend.

"I see." Ms. Fry purses her lips into a thin line. She looks at Jemma pointedly and when Daisy is distracted checking out the décor, she mouths 'no-Maj' with a disapproving expression.

It looks Jemma a second to realize what she's talking about. Daisy is a Muggle, right. And the Americans are pretty strict about the fraternization policy. Judging by the look Ms. Fry is giving her, Jemma has already started off on the wrong foot.

Jemma feels a little guilty when she reaches forward to take the other suitcase from Daisy, giving her a polite smile. "Thank you very much, Daisy," she says, "I think I can make it from here."

"Are you sure? I totally don't mind checking out the rooms," Daisy says. "I bet there's plenty of space in this place."

"I…" Jemma doesn't miss the look that Ms. Fry gives her. "I'm all right. It was nice to meet you."

Daisy looks surprised by the brushoff and it only makes Jemma feel even worse. It seems ridiculous to stop talking to someone just because they're a Muggle, especially someone as bright and cheery as Daisy. But still…rules are rules and Peggy told her to play it safe with these Americans.

"Okay, sure." Daisy shoves her hands into the pockets of her coat, shrugging as she steps backward. "I get it. Glad you made it safe."

Jemma bites her tongue to call out an apology as Daisy disappears through the doors. She looks over at Ms. Fry, who rolls her eyes. "No-Maj are nothing by trouble," she says. "I don't know how you do things where you're from but it's better for everyone if we keep our distance."

Jemma only nods because she doesn't feel like getting started in this particular conversation. She just takes the room key from Ms. Fry and steps into the elevator, run by a scowling house elf. She knows that it shouldn't bother her as much as it does but Jemma can't help but feel guilty about ignoring Daisy and sending her off, especially after she'd been so nice and helpful.

But what's done is done and she doubts that she'll ever see Daisy again.

* * *

 

By the end of her first day in New York City, Jemma has nothing worthwhile to report to Peggy. Not that Peggy has anything worthwhile to report in turn, which makes Jemma feel just a little bit better. Despite her exhaustion, Jemma finds it difficult for her to slip off to sleep immediately after Peggy switches off the lamp. She listens to the sounds of Peggy breathing softly, trying to will herself to follow suit but it seems impossible. The city is still wide awake outside the window and there's a marquee across the street that keeps alternating between solid and flashing lights and it casts shadows across the room, plunging it into darkness before filling it with light all over again. Jemma feels like she's too old, too capable to be rattled about being in a strange city so she figures that it's not nerves that are keeping her awake. There's a sense of excitement gnawing just at the edge of her consciousness, making her want to throw back the covers and go explore the city. It makes her want to find the mole in the Magical Congress and prove to the Ministry back home that she's more than capable of handling herself as an Auror.

But eventually she falls asleep and Jemma still feels a little groggy the following morning when she and Peggy go down to join the other residents for breakfast. She takes her seat beside Peggy and across from two of the other inhabitants of their floor: Angie, a Legilimens who immediately starts picking through their brains -accidently or on purpose, Jemma can't decide- and Dottie, who regards them with little interest as she spells her knife to spread butter across a piece of toast.

"You know the best way to get information in this city?" Angie questions cheerfully, though with a hushed tone that Jemma can tell Peggy is grateful for. "You need to find a speakeasy. They're always crowded and once you get people sampling that Giggle Water…" She shrugs, smiling mischievously. "People are more willing to talk."

So, it's decided: while Peggy returns to the Congress, Jemma will wander the city and try and overhear and obverse whatever she can. Peggy tells her to listen out for Muggles too, who sometimes know more than they're expected to.

A little guiltily, Jemma turns the reconnaissance mission into more of a sight-seeing one, treating herself to lunch and taking in the different sights, sounds and smells of the city. She remembers her lessons from yesterday, keeping her purse close and trying to act and walk like knows exactly what she's doing.

As she passes the steps of the New York Public Library, Jemma finds the going is made increasingly difficult by the large number of people gathered around. Her curiosity quickly gets the better of her and she starts pushing her way through the crowd, attempting to get close enough to see what has captured everyone's attention.

There are a handful of children milling about, trying to force leaflets into the hands of the people standing by and with little success. There's a woman standing in the center of it all, grandstanding on the steps and gesturing with her arms as she lifts her voice to shout over the sounds of the crowd.

"The people of this city need to open their eyes and pay attention!" She declares, hitting her open palm with her fist. "How many unexplainable things do we have to pretend not to notice? How many times do we have to be afraid of people who aren't us? Magic is the Devil's tool! And there are Devils in New York City!"

Jemma feels her stomach turn at the woman's words. She's talking about witches and wizards…which makes her wonder how successful the American wizards' attempts to stay hidden really are. Most people seem amused by what the woman is saying, drawn purely for the spectacle of it all rather than by the words. But Jemma can see that a few people are nodding along, their faces clouded with anger. There's nothing more dangerous than a couple of zealots.

Jemma takes one of the pamphlets when a dirty child hands it to her and she quickly glances over the words -all fear mongering- before stuffing it into the pocket of her jacket to show Peggy later. There's probably no connection between the mole in the Congress and this society but still, it's best to investigate all angles.

When Jemma turns to go, she runs right into a member of the crowd. She steps back, mumbling an apology, surprised to look up and see Daisy standing in front of her. Daisy doesn't look all that surprised so Jemma wonders if her position wasn't an accident after all. "Oh, Daisy, hello." Jemma smiles at her, straightening her scarf.

"Hey," Daisy says shortly. "Are there certain restrictions on when you're going to acknowledge me? Should I come back later?"

That guilty feeling comes back and Jemma is pretty sure it shows on her face. "I'm sorry about yesterday…Ms. Fry isn't exactly…the nicest person…"

"And that has what to do with you?" Daisy questions but then she shrugs, batting the conversation away. "Doesn't matter. We don't owe each other anything, I get it. Just wanted to make sure you got a flyer." She holds up a stack of papers identical to the one Jemma currently has stuffed in her pocket.

Jemma can't hide her surprise. "You're working with that lady?"

"Yeah, I know Ms. Nadeer," Daisy says, "you interested in joining up with her cause?"

Jemma crinkles her nose. "I don't think so."

Daisy shrugs and turns to disappear into the crowd again. Jemma steps forward, reaching for her elbow. "Wait!"

"Why?" Daisy shakes her off, looking at her curiously. "I thought you made yourself clear yesterday, you aren't interested in talking to me. Or having me in your fancy boarding house."

Jemma blows out a frustrated breath. "It's not what you think," she says, exasperated.

Daisy lifts an eyebrow. "So what is it?"

Well, she can't exactly explain that now can she? Jemma makes a noncommittal noise, shifting uncomfortably. "I…" Obviously, she's taking longer to answer than Daisy would like, judging by the way Daisy turns to leave once more. "Let me make it up to you!"

Daisy looks at her strangely and Jemma feels like an idiot for just blurting the words out. But at least Daisy isn't walking away and that counts for something. Peggy did instruct her to learn whatever she could about what was going on in the city and Angie's advice knocks around in her brain. "How about we get a drink?"

Daisy's eyes get wide and a fearful expression crosses her face. She glances around nervously before stepping closer to Jemma. "You can't just stay things like that," she whispers sharply. "You aren't in England anymore, doll."

The nickname makes Jemma feel only a little bit better but it does nothing to make her feel less foolish. "Oh, right…" She winces, shaking her head. "Sorry…I…"

Daisy glances around once more before leaning in to whisper, "Were you serious? About the drink thing?"

"I…" Jemma nods, trying to ignore the fact that she suddenly feels nervous and doesn't really know why. "Yes."

Daisy actually smiles and the nervousness disappears. "Okay. I've got some place we can go."

She takes Jemma's hand, tugging her through the crowd and even though it's not totally necessary for Jemma to keep holding on, she doesn't pull her hand away.

The sun is starting to go down, spreading shadows through the city. The streetlamps are being lit and most of the shops they pass along the way are already closed up for the night. "Where are we going?" Jemma questions when she's walked several blocks with Daisy in silence. It's chilly out but it somehow feels cozy, though they haven't talked since leaving the crowd outside the library steps.

"You'll see," Daisy tells her. "It's secretive, very hush hush." She winks and Jemma smiles, unable to figure out if Daisy is just teasing her again. "I can trust you to keep a secret, right?"

"Yes, of course." Jemma nods quickly. "I am an excellent secret keeper. The best."

Daisy looks at her and Jemma regrets her words all over again. She really just needs to learn how to be quiet. But then Daisy smiles and nods. "Okay, let's go." She pulls Jemma down a side street so suddenly that Jemma nearly loses her footing.

Jemma blinks at the sudden darkness, wrinkling her nose at the smell of trash and rotting food. "I…are you going to kill me?" She's only half serious.

Daisy laughs. "Not yet," she assures her. "I know this place probably isn't as ritzy as you're used to but the cops almost never bust it up."

Jemma doesn't have time to be uncertain because Daisy is suddenly knocking on a space in the brick wall and after a pause, the wall slides away. Jemma looks at Daisy with wide eyes. "Magic," she blurts out, too excited to think about her words. If Daisy is a witch than there's no reason she can't…

But she recognizes her mistake when Daisy laughs at her. "No," she snorts. "Just a removable panel. But I'm glad you're impressed. That means the cops will be fooled too."

Jemma is glad that the hallway is dark enough to hide her embarrassed blush. She can already hear the sounds of music and laughter drifting in from down the hallway and the crash and twang of instruments seem impossibly loud in the cramped space. It doesn't get much better when they get into the heart of the speakeasy. There are people taking up every available space, laughing and shimmying to the music. The lights above reflect off the glittering sequins on most of the ladies' dresses and the air smells like sweat and booze and old perfume and cigar smoke. It seems impossible to move without running into someone but she follows Daisy's lead as she weaves through the crowd and up to the bar.

"Hey Mack," Daisy says as she elbows up in between the people already seated on stools, pulling Jemma alongside her. "Two of what ya got."

Mack looks at Jemma and raises an eyebrow at Daisy. "And what have you got?" He questions as he sets two glasses on the bar.

"This is Jemma," Daisy says. "She's friends with the Queen of England."

Jemma sputters, "That's not-"

"Ah, a real Sheba, huh?" Mack says to Daisy and then looks over at Jemma, winking and smiling to let her in on the joke.

Daisy misses the exchange completely. "Can't you tell just by looking at her?" She says, nudging Jemma with her elbow. "She's real keen."

Once again, Jemma finds herself blushing and she hopes that Daisy doesn't notice. She's been complimented before but never by someone who's as deserving of those very compliments as Daisy.

Mack gives them their drinks and Daisy pulls her away from the bar once more and manages to find them a table. Jemma sits down across from her, glad that the table is small enough to eliminate the need to shout to be heard. "Are you always such a flatterer?"

Daisy gives her a look. "You think I'm flattering you?"

Jemma's face falls and the color that rushes to her cheeks now is purely from embarrassment. Daisy doesn't make it more than a few seconds before she can't keep a straight face anymore and laughs. "You know, you are easy to tease."

Jemma rolls her eyes, mostly at herself. "It's not just because I'm from out of town," she assures Daisy. "People are school used to say the same thing."

"What school did you go to?" Daisy questions, taking a sip from her drink.

"Uh…" Jemma can't exactly tell Daisy the truth and Hogwarts doesn't sound like the type of name that belongs to any normal, Muggle school. "I…" She mumbles something, hoping that her answer is lost to the music and the conversation around them. In an effort to keep herself from having to clarify, she picks up her glass and takes a drink, almost spitting it right back out into Daisy's face. "What is this? You actually pay to drink this?"

Daisy laughs. "Well, when you're drinking bootleg you can't exactly be picky." She shrugs. "You take what you get. The taste will grow on you."

"Not likely," Jemma mumbles but she finishes the drink anyway, impressed by her fortitude. "How did you end up working for…Ms. Nadeer, was it?"

Another shrug and Daisy finishes her own drink. "It's all about opportunity. She had something I needed so I started helping her out in exchange. Purely a business transaction."

Jemma tries to ignore the curious part of her brain that wants so desperately to ask Daisy what she needed from the likes of Nadeer. "So…do you believe what she says?"

"About witches living in New York City?" Daisy sounds appropriately incredulous.

"About witches being dangerous," Jemma clarifies and that feeling of sticking her foot in her mouth comes back in full force. "I mean…yes. About there being witches in New York."

Daisy shakes her head. "No," she assures Jemma. "It's totally ridiculous. No one is special enough to be born with magic powers. That's just fairy tale stuff."

Jemma's wand seems to jab her in the side as she nods in agreement. "Right. Of course."

"But I'd never say that around Ms. Nadeer," Daisy adds. "She's crazy about this stuff. She talks from sunup to sunset about all the weird stuff in New York being because of the witches. Mysterious deaths, all that kind of stuff. She thinks witches are evil."

Jemma frowns, looking down at her empty glass. "Well…I'm sure there are some evil humans too," she grumbles. And then she looks up at Daisy. "What mysterious deaths?"

Daisy shrugs. "A few people have died recently, totally unexplained, invisible attackers…sounds like a cover up to me."

Jemma thinks over her words. Maybe this is connected to what she and Peggy have come over to investigate; the unexplained deaths of Muggles certainly has Grindelwald written all over it.

She opens her mouth to ask Daisy more about these occurrences but the band starts up with a different song and Daisy brightens, popping out of seat. "I love this song!" She grabs Jemma's hand and pulls her up. "Let's dance."

Jemma has never been one for dancing, especially not in public or with another person. She can never remember the right steps or manage not to step on her partner's feet but Daisy doesn't seem to care about things like prescribed dance moves or Jemma's uncertainty. She just holds her close, swinging and spinning her around as the band plays "Ain't We Got Fun" and before she knows it, Jemma is laughing and letting Daisy whisk her around the makeshift dance floor. There are plenty of other people around but somehow Daisy is the only one who seems to matter.

The band isn't quite finished before a sharp whistle cuts through the air and someone shouts out that the cops are coming and pandemonium ensues. Behind the bar, Mack and another guy are quickly pulling down the bottles of liquor, trying to stash them under hidden spaces in the floor. The speakeasy's occupants are trying to make for the hidden back exit, desperate not to be apprehended.

The police burst into the speakeasy and even though there's only three it's more than enough to cause more chaos than the small space can contain. Jemma loses her footing, tripping over an overturned chair and landing hard enough to rattle her teeth. She instantly reaches for her wand, relieved to find that it is unbroken.

Daisy reaches to help her to her feet but before their hands meet, one of the officers grabs Daisy's by the back of her coat and pulls her backward. Jemma really doesn't think, she simply acts, pulling out her wand and pointing it at the officer. Most people aren't paying attention, they're too distracted by everything else in the speakeasy but she can tell that Daisy isn't missing a second of what's going on.

"Stupefy!" Jemma shouts and the spell hits the officer square in the face. He freezes up, letting go of Daisy and falling backward. He'll definitely be bruised in the morning but that's not her concern.

Daisy looks so surprised that Jemma almost worries that she caught her with the spell too but she responds when Jemma stands up, reaching for her hand so she figures that her shock is the perfectly normal kind. The kind that comes from seeing someone perform real magic in front of you when you thought magic was nothing but fairy tales. You know, the exact thing that Jemma had been warned against practically the second she stepped onto American soil.

They manage to get out through the secret exit and Daisy recovers enough to lead the way. At least she's still holding firmly to Jemma's hand rather than running screaming and trying to leave her behind so she figures that's a positive thing.

Jemma is happy to be outside in the biting night air once again, away from the noise and bodies in the speakeasy and the police officers trying to shut the place down. They don't stop running until they're several blocks away and even though Jemma's lungs feel like they're on fire, she's pretty sure she could keep running for hours. There's something exhilarating about it all now that they're out of immediate danger.

There's no one else around so it seems safe to stop. Jemma regrettably pulls away from Daisy, taking a step back and trying to regain her breath. "Where are we?" She doesn't really care but she hopes if she starts a conversation that Daisy will forget about the questions she surely has.

"Central Park," Daisy says, jabbing to some spot over Jemma's shoulder. She turns to see an expanse of grass and trees and a frozen pond sparkling in the moonlight. "What just happened?"

Jemma decides to feign stupidity. "Well, I do remember reading about your American prohibition in the newspapers and I suppose the police officers didn't like-"

"No, I mean, I know what happened with the cops." Daisy rolls her eyes. "I mean what happened with…that."

It's only when Daisy points to her wand that Jemma realizes she still has it clutched in her hand. It's probably a good thing there's no one else around seeing as she just ran several blocks through New York City with her wand out for anyone who cared to notice. Peggy is not going to be pleased with her.

"Oh…" Jemma holds up the wand as though she's never seen it before in her life. It's probably not a good idea to Daisy get such a good look at it, though she figures that ship has sailed. She can tell from the look on Daisy's face that she's not going to be easily fooled. "It's…uh…my wand."

Yeah, Peggy is going to send her on the first boat back to England.

For a minute, Daisy doesn't say anything at all, she just stares at her. Jemma doesn't blame her but that doesn't do much to help the nerves knotting up her stomach. She's only known Daisy for two days, she has no way of knowing if she's about to run screaming through the streets about witches and magic. Or, worse, she could go tell that Nadeer woman exactly what she saw and then the whole magical community would really be in trouble.

"You're a witch?" Daisy questions finally, confusion knitting her face. "A real witch?"

Jemma swallows and nods. Might as well commit completely by this point. "Yes. There are witches and wizards all over the world and we…we aren't like Ms. Nadeer is saying we are."

Jemma hates how soft and tremulous her voice sounds.

Quickly, Daisy shakes her head. "I never believed anything she said," she blurts out quickly like she's worried about what Jemma might think or do. "Trying to lump a group of people together like that…I mean I didn't really believe there were witches but…you know…I never thought they were evil or anything. I mean, you aren't evil. Right?"

"No," Jemma assures her quickly. "And I…I shouldn't have used magic, it's strictly forbidden but I…I didn't know what else to do."

"What happens if you use magic?"

Jemma shrugs. "The rules in America are different from where I'm from but I suppose they could take my wand away or demote me or…" Surely Azkaban is too serious for this transgression but her stomach still rolls at the thought. "I'm not sure."

"And you did that for me," Daisy says softly and there's a mixture of gratitude and confusion in her eyes when she looks at Jemma. "You used magic to help me."

Jemma doesn't know what to say. It had seemed so effortless, such an easy decision to make. Daisy had been in trouble and she'd had the ability to help her; a simple equation.

"Daisy," Jemma says, swallowing nervously, "you can't tell anyone. It's…it's very important. You can't tell anyone, especially not Ms. Nadeer or-"

"I would never tell her," Daisy says quickly, seeming almost offended by the idea. "Plus I'm an excellent secret keeper. The best." She smiles tentatively as she uses Jemma's words from earlier.

Jemma feels herself smiling as well despite the way her heart is still pounding in her chest and she can't quite shake the anxiety coursing through her blood. All she can do is trust Daisy and hope for the best. But looking at Daisy's smile is quite reassuring.

"Okay," Jemma says with a nod. "Then I guess we're jake."

Daisy bursts out laughing, wrinkling her nose. "You should probably never say that again," she tells Jemma. "It just sounds weird."

Jemma feigns hurt and annoyance but she's already feeling better about things. It might have only been two days but she feels like she can trust Daisy with all her secrets.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When we last left our heroes, they were in New York City, fighting the good fight against bad magic. Well, Jemma was fighting that fight alone, until she broke the Magical Congress' most important rule and let a No-Maj in on the secrets of the wizarding world. Now that Daisy is in on Jemma's little secret, there's nothing wrong with showing off a bit or letting her know about Jemma and Peggy's real task, is there? MACUSA might beg to differ but Jemma's feeling pretty confident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well sorry it's taken me so long to update! But here we are, ready for more magic and slang and historical AUs! I've also added a third part so stay tuned for...more magic and slang and historical AUs and me hopefully writing the conclusion before JK Rowling writes the next ten Fantastic Beast movies. Thanks for the people who have shown interest and given me encouraging words and for my Skimmons fandom family, who continue to be the best ever.

Central Park is empty, the streetlamps causing the snowdrifts and icicles to sparkle and Jemma pulls her coat tighter around herself in an effort to chase away the chill that has settled across the city now that night has firmly settled over the buildings and tenant houses. Her breath plumes out in front of her, mingling with Daisy's in the darkness before disappearing completely. Jemma isn't sure where they're going but she's fine with following Daisy's lead. It's not like she's eager to go back to the Griffith anyway; she has no idea how she's going to spin this evening into something positive when she's relaying the events to Peggy.

"So, you're a witch and you can do real magic," Daisy says, as though cataloging these thoughts in her mind. "How did you learn?"

"Both of my parents can do magic as well," Jemma replies. "And there's a special school for witches and wizards; everyone has to attend to learn how to control their abilities."

Since there's no point in closing the barn door after the horse is already out, Jemma doesn't hesitate in answering Daisy's questions. She tells her about Hogwarts and the different classes and professors there, about the ghosts that live in the castle and the dining hall that always has plenty of food on the table. She tells her about learning to navigate the ever changing castle, about studying for her OWLS and the bitter disappointment that she still feels daily in being passed up for her chosen career and saddled with the occupation of glorified secretary, even if that assignment did lead her here. And she tells Daisy everything she knows about Ilvermorny, the wizarding school located not far from where they are now; it's not much because the rivalry between Hogwarts and the other wizarding schools made her and all the other students more interested in proving their superiority than in actually learning about the other schools and students. But even still, Daisy's eyes are shining with envy and desire by the end of her stories; her longing is palpable between them. "I wish I was a wizard," she mumbles mournfully.

Jemma smiles sympathetically. "Yes, I wouldn't trade it for anything," she admits. "And if you were a witch, it would make all of this much easier."

Daisy looks at her curiously. "All of what?"

"Well, you Americans seem to have some very strict laws on Muggle and wizard relationships," Jemma explains. "I was given strict instructions not to talk to any Muggles or befriend them or-"

"Show them spells and tell them all the secrets of the magical world?" Daisy guesses, smirking.

Jemma crinkles her nose. "Yes, that too."

"Well, I won't tell," Daisy assures her with a wink. "I don't want to get you into trouble for having any Muggle relationships."

Jemma wonders if Daisy can see the way that her cheeks grow pink. She's been doing that a lot recently; she feels like it's only fair for her to eventually reach the limit of her embarrassment. "I mean…friendships as well…any type of relationship."

They both find something far more interesting to look at.

Their breath leads the way as they continue to walk through the park. Daisy kicks at the snow on the sidewalk with her boot, stooping and starting to gather some in her hands. "So, Sheba," she says, straightening and tossing the half-formed snow ball into the air between them, "are you going to show me some more magic?"

Jemma has been good at following the rules since she was a little kid. She never used magic outside of Hogwarts or during the summer months until her parents and professors said that she could. She never used spells to cut corners or give herself an extra advantage or to prank some of the upperclassmen who enjoyed messing with the first and second years. She's never done something that someone suggested, even for an instant, that she shouldn't. But still, Jemma doesn't hesitate in pulling out her wand and holding it up in the chilly night air. As she moves her wand with the smooth, steady strokes of a conductor managing his orchestra, the snow lifts from the ground in silvery stands, twisting around Daisy like ribbons. One of the flakes settles on the tip of her nose and Daisy grins, her eyes bright, her body thrumming with the same excitement and wonder that Jemma remembers feeling years ago.

The snow reforms into a ball, which hovers above Daisy's head only momentarily before dropping down, splattering over her hair and shoulders. Jemma can't even pretend like it's an accident; her laughter gives her away.

Daisy's eyes flash with mischief and surprise and she quickly brushes the snow off her hair. "Oh, so that's how it's going to be, huh?" She grins at Jemma, a playfully deadly smile. "Well just remember you brought this on yourself," she says as she kneels down, quickly gathering up snow and packing it into a ball. "And I don't need magic to win."

Jemma lets out a shriek as the snowball hits her right in the chest and she quickly stows her wand, fumbling to pack a snowball before Daisy can send another missile in her direction. They chase each other around the park, marring the perfect snow with their footfalls and desperate attempts to create ammunition, their laughter ringing through the otherwise still night air.

* * *

 

Jemma lets herself quietly into the room that she's sharing with Peggy but she's not surprised when the bedside lamp clicks on instantly, bathing the room in a warm glow. Peggy's wand is in her hand but it looks like it's a gesture made more out of habit rather than the need for protection. She gives Jemma the once over. "What happened to you?"

Jemma glances down at herself. Her coat and skirt are damp from the snow and her hair is rumpled from running around. Peggy's question is perfectly reasonable, though Jemma isn't entirely sure how to answer.

Peggy sits up straighter, frowning. "Where have you been?" She studies Jemma a little more closely. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Jemma assures her quickly, shrugging off her coat and putting it across the radiator to dry. Her blouse is equally as rumpled and she's trying to think of a reasonable explanation for why she's been gone all day and well into the night and why she's shown up all disheveled and wet. "I've been out…investigating."

Peggy lifts both her eyebrows. "Investigating what, exactly?"

Another fair question. Jemma decides not to answer right away, retrieving her pajamas from her suitcase, eager to get out of her wet clothes and into bed so she can pretend to be asleep while Peggy gives her the third degree.

"Something tells me this doesn't have to do with looking into what I asked you to," Peggy continues.

"Actually, I did find something interesting," Jemma tells her cheerfully, grateful to have something to hold onto. She runs the brush through her hair as she turns back toward Peggy. "Have you heard about Ms. Nadeer? She's been speaking out against witches in New York City, warning people about magic and how dangerous it is."

Now Peggy is looking at her with interest that has more to do with her words and less with her appearance, something Jemma is grateful for. "How do you know?"

"I saw her speaking on a street corner today." Jemma goes to her jacket, digging through the pockets until she finds the crumpled, damp pamphlet that she got earlier that day. She hands it over to Peggy. "Apparently she's been doing this for quite a while."

Peggy frowns, glancing quickly through the pages. "Melinda mentioned something like this yesterday," she mumbles, setting the booklet aside. "Muggles who are trying to spread fear through the city, talking about witches and wizards." She frowns, considering. "I'd never thought that it might be connected to the person working for Grindelwald."

"I could look into it tomorrow," Jemma suggests, slipping into the warm and welcoming covers of the bed across from Peggy's. "I have an inside source."

Instantly, she regrets mentioning to this to Peggy, especially because her interest in Jemma has suddenly been renewed. "Oh, is that so?" She smiles. "Does this source have something to do with…" She gestures toward Jemma's wet things drying on the back of the chair and the radiator.

Jemma feigns indifference. "Perhaps."

"Well then, it's settled. You'll pursue this lead tomorrow and see what you can come up with," Peggy says, waving her hand. The light switches off, settling the room into relative darkness; the marquee across the street still flashes, filling the room with intermittent light. "I'm glad you've found another wizard to show you around the city."

Now is the perfect time to practice feigning sleep. Jemma keeps her eyes shut tightly, ignoring Peggy's comment. If she wants to believe that the person that Jemma has been spending her time with is of the magical persuasion then far be it from Jemma to correct her.

* * *

 

At breakfast the following morning, Jemma finds herself faced with a particularly troubling dilemma; she watches as the tea stirs itself, preparing the cup exactly as she likes it, trying to figure out how she's going to meet up with Daisy again. Every time she's found her, it's been totally by accident and it wasn't like they parted ways making plans to find one another again. And maybe that wasn't accidental; maybe Jemma is the only one hoping that their paths will cross again.

Jemma frowns, trying to ignore the anxiety swirling in her chest. She's not worried about being unable to follow through with the task that Peggy has given her; in all honesty, her concern has more to do with not seeing Daisy again than finding the leak in the Magical Congress.

"Are you going to eat that breakfast or just stare at it?" Angie questions playfully, leaning forward to pick a slice of pear off Jemma's plate. "Because I'd be happy to eat it if you aren't going to." She winks as she takes a bite of the fruit.

Jemma gives her an apologetic smile. "Sorry I…I was just thinking." She picks up a fork but doesn't move to actually use it.

Suddenly a smile breaks across Angie's face and she looks at her with interest. "Who's Daisy?"

Even though the last thing Jemma wants to do is provide Angie even more fuel for her abilities, thoughts of Daisy and their eventful day flash through her mind. She's pretty sure there's no way to hide that Daisy is a No-Maj from a Legilimens, a realization that fills her with a growing sense of panic.

But Angie only gives her a reassuring smile, patting Jemma's hand. "Don't worry honey," she says softly, "I won't say anything."

Dottie looks between them with interest but before she can say anything, Peggy comes to join them at the table and the conversation is effectively dropped. Much to Jemma's relief.

After breakfast, Jemma heads out, hoping that she radiates more confidence than she actually feels. She watches Peggy disappear with Dottie and Angie, heading toward the headquarters of the Congress and she sighs, squaring off her shoulders and starting off in the opposite direction. She's starting to get to know the city a little bit better but she'd still prefer to have a guide along with her.

Jemma goes a few blocks before spotting a young boy standing on the street corner, trying to shove pamphlets at passersby. "Sir, don't cha wanna know about the witches?" The boy asks, waving the paper at a man in a suit, who doesn't spare him a passing glance. "There's witches, miss."

He looks surprised when Jemma actually walks over to him, smiling brightly. "Hello," she says, holding out a hand. "My name is Jemma, what's yours?"

The boy looks at her curiously before glancing over his shoulder, like he's expecting to see someone else. He looks back at her skeptically. "Ace."

"Nice to meet you, Ace." Jemma keeps a bright smile on her face. "I was hoping you might be able to help me with something."

Ace hazards a guess, "Finding the witches?"

Jemma swallows down a laugh. If only he knew. "Not quite. I'm looking for the headquarters of Ms. Nadeer's group." She pauses, considering. "Well, I'm looking for one person in particular. Maybe you know her; her name is Daisy."

Ace's face brightens. "Ms. Nadeer says Daisy's a real pill but I think she's swell," he tells her excitedly. "Are you her friend?"

"I'd like to think so," Jemma answers honestly. "Do you know where I can find her?"

Ace tosses the pamphlets aside and they scatter across the slush on the ground, which is honestly where Jemma thinks they belong. "I can take you." He slips his hand into Jemma's tugging her along. "I don't think Ms. Nadeer is there."

This news is even better. Though Jemma knows that she should be spending as much time as possible around Nadeer so that she can investigate any possible connection to Grindelwald, it doesn't make her any more eager to spend time in her company.

Ace takes her to a derelict building squashed between tenant houses and shops selling all manner of different goods and services. The air is filled with the heady fragrances of dozens of different types of foods and the sounds of just as many different types of languages rattles around the bricks, echoing back a cacophony that makes Jemma somehow feel cozy and content rather than overwhelmed. No one pays them any attention as they weave between people selling and buying and children playing games and groups of men and women standing around gossiping or snipping at one another.

The building Ace pulls her to has a variety of propaganda posters glued haphazardly to the wood and brick and even more of the pamphlets scattered around. There are a handful of children standing around the steps outside, ill-dressed for the weather but playing around in the slush and disappearing patches of snow anyway. Unlike the others on the street, the children all stop and watch as Jemma follows Ace up the steps.

The doors creak as Ace pushes them open and he gives her a grin before scampering off, hollering, "I gave away my pamphlets! Where's my breakfast!"

Jemma isn't sure what else to do but follow after him. There's signs of habitation all around the large, open living room area, though not the types of things one would expect: there's no couch or anywhere for comfortable reclining. Just a long wooden table and a few pairs of shoes scattered around, mixed with a handful of blocks and other children's toys. There are a few children sitting at the long table, carefully assembling the pamphlets that Jemma has seen so much of recently.

The ceiling towers above and Jemma can see a rickety, wooden staircase leading to a second level. There are footsteps and voices coming from above but Jemma doesn't actually see the source of the sounds.

Ace has disappeared into a large kitchen, where there are a half dozen other children sitting around and quickly spooning oatmeal into their mouths. Daisy is leaning against the kitchen counter, a bowl in her hands, playfully nudging Ace with her foot as he sits down in front of her.

Daisy nearly drops her bowl all over Ace's head when she notices Jemma standing there. "Jemma! What are you doing here?" She quickly sets the bowl aside, straightening up and smoothing down the front of her shirt.

"I followed Ace," Jemma answers, giving her a tentative smile. "I hope that's okay?"

Quickly, Daisy heads out the kitchen, looping her arm through Jemma's and tugging her back toward the door. She stops only to grab a pair of boots and her jacket, neither of which she puts on before they make it outside.

Jemma gives Daisy an apologetic smile. "I'm guessing that was not okay."

Daisy stuffs her feet into her shoes and Jemma tries not to grin at her disheveled appearance: she's wearing a pair of slacks which somehow suit her personality perfectly, a misbuttoned blouse and a hat plopped unceremoniously over her bobbed hair. Jemma has to look away so she can focus on being appropriately apologetic about showing up unannounced.

"It's fine," Daisy assures her quickly, slipping on her coat. "I was going to find you later it's just…that place is horrible so I was kinda hoping, you know…you wouldn't go there."

They start walking, putting the building behind them and mingling with the organized, homey chaos of the street around them. "I'm sorry," Jemma says softly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Daisy smiles at her. "I guess I'm just flattered you came looking, Sheba."

Jemma rolls her eyes but she doesn't mind the nickname so much. "There are a lot of kids there," she remarks. "Ace seemed sweet."

"He is," Daisy says with a nod. "They all are. They're better than that place."

Jemma figures that they haven't been friends long enough for her to get away with attempting to pry personal information from Daisy but she's not about to let that stop her from trying. "Yesterday you said that Nadeer had something you needed, which is why you started working with her…what was it?"

Daisy shrugs. "That whole thing…it's kinda her MO. She finds orphans, kids whose families can't afford to feed them, that sort of thing. She gives them food and a place to stay in exchange for passing out her stupid pamphlets, helping out with her rallies, that sort of thing."

"So that's how you got to know her?" Jemma questions. "You needed somewhere to stay?"

"I've been with her a lot longer than most of the other kids," Daisy replies. "My parents left me holding the bag a long time ago."

Jemma's brow furrows and she lets her hand rest on the inside of Daisy's elbow. "I'm sorry."

Daisy waves her free hand, keeping Jemma's hand tucked in the crook of her elbow. "I'm thinking about quittin' anyway." She grins. "Apparently witches aren't so terrible after all."

Jemma smirks. "You don't say?"

They walk for a while in silence and Jemma contents herself with following Daisy, though she has no idea where they're going. It's not exactly getting her anywhere in her all-important Ministry sanctioned investigation but she's got all day.

"So, I have some more questions about, you know," Daisy lowers her voice, leaning in closer to Jemma. "Magic."

Jemma lifts her face slightly so that her nose almost brushes against Daisy's. It's totally not necessary, they're plenty close enough already, but it's too tempting to resist. "I might be able to help with those."

"Not that I'm complaining or anything, but why New York?" Daisy questions as they move a respectable distance apart once more. "Why come here?"

Jemma thinks for a moment, debating how much to tell Daisy about the real reason she and Peggy are in New York. It might not hurt, especially since she's so close to Nadeer. So Jemma tells her about Grindelwald and how the Ministry sent Peggy to investigate a possible leak in the Congress and how they're here to stop the spread of dark magic and the potential war between Muggles and wizards. "And the Magical Congress happens to be located here in New York City."

Daisy's eyes get wide. "Here? Where? How has no one noticed?"

Jemma figures that since she's already broken so many laws there's nothing wrong with continuing her streak. Jemma Simmons has never been one to go about things with half an effort.

So she gives Daisy the name of the department store currently serving as the headquarters and Daisy leads them in the right direction, all the while marveling about magic in their midst.

"It looks totally normal to me," Daisy remarks as she watches people coming and going, stepping into the store or leaving with shopping bags knocking against their legs. "I've been by here dozens of times and I never noticed anything weird or magical."

Jemma grabs Daisy's arm, tugging her away from the front of the store, pulling her away from any watchful eyes or ears. "Well that's the whole point," she whispers once they've ducked out of sight, leaning against the wall of the bakery adjacent to the entrance. "Plus you aren't supposed to know about magic, remember? If someone hears you then we'll both get in big trouble."

Daisy mimes locking her lips and throwing the key over her shoulder. It lasts all of five seconds. "So that place is really…you know…" She peeks around the corner of the bakery toward the department store. "I don't get it."

"It's all illusion charms and spells," Jemma assures her. There's someone dressed as a doorman standing toward the left of the building, guarding the entrance that will take wizards and witches toward the Magical Congress, hidden in plain view. If a Muggle like Daisy was to go to that door by accident, she'd see nothing more than clothing displays. "Very sophisticated."

"I wouldn't think anything less from you, Sheba." Daisy shakes her head, grinning. "If Ms. Nadeer knew about this she'd have kittens, seriously."

Jemma can't help her eyes from getting wide and Daisy quickly shakes her head. "I'm not going to say anything." Her words are slightly teasing but more than that, they're reassuring. "Remember?" She mimes the lock-and-key maneuver again.

Though, again, Daisy's silence doesn't last long. She straightens up suddenly, nudging Jemma with her elbow. "Hey! I know that guy." She tilts her head toward a suited, dark-skinned man on the opposite sidewalk. He's walking in the direction of the department store though he doesn't exactly look like the type to do his shopping in a place like that. Jemma suspects he's more interested in magic than increasing his wardrobe. "He comes around the church sometimes."

"Really?" Jemma's curiosity starts to get the better of her as she watches the man cross the street, heading up the steps toward the department store. As predicated, he heads for the doorman on the left; the doorman nods, holding the door open for him to pass through.

"He's Ms. Nadeer's brother," Daisy says, peering over Jemma's shoulder. "His name is Vijay. He's way less of a flat tire than Ms. Nadeer."

Jemma looks at her, surprised. "Are you certain? That's her brother."

Daisy nods slowly, looking uncertain. "Uh…yeah. Why?"

"That means they might have magical parents…or at least she probably would have grown up knowing about magic and his abilities." Jemma frowns, processing this new information. "But she's speaking out so publicly against wizards…"

Daisy shrugs. "Maybe she's jealous," she says. "Maybe she can't do magic like he can."

Jemma's eyes brighten. "That could be it! A squib." She grins. "It would explain why she's speaking out against magic…it might also explain where Grindelwald is getting his information."

Daisy looks at her skeptically. "You think Ms. Nadeer is the rat?"

"Well, it wouldn't be her exactly…" Jemma purses her lips, considering their options. It wouldn't do to bring this suspicion to Peggy without more solid evidence; it might only get swept aside or not taken seriously. But if she could do a little more investigating, could find proof that Vijay is using his role in the Congress and his sister to siphon information off to Grindelwald then they might really have something.

Of course, that would require getting into the Congressional offices. With a No-Maj. Without anyone noticing.

Totally doable. Jemma Simmons didn't ace her OWLS for nothing.

"Okay, I need you to act like you've seen all of this a million times before," Jemma says, taking a deep breath. "And don't say anything."

"Wait, why?" Daisy questions but then her eyes grow wide and a smile creeps across her face. "Wait…are we going inside? _Inside_ the magical building!"

Jemma rolls her eyes. "Remember what I said?"

Daisy nods, adjusting her hat and straightening her jacket. "Right. We're jake. Old hat. Let's do this. Following you, Sheba."

Jemma leads the way toward the doorman like she's done this a thousand times before. It's not her that she's worried about, of course; she'll be able to get into the building without a problem. It's the fact that she's got a Muggle with her, one who's doing a very terrible job at acting nonchalant and unbothered.

The doorman nods, opening the door as they get closer. Jemma gives Daisy a push so that she goes in first, hoping that the doorman won't notice. It's not exactly smooth, casual behavior but she flashes him a smile, swishing her skirt as she walks by and that seems to do the trick.

At least they're inside. Jemma would like to say that the hardest part is behind them but she's much too smart for that.

Beside her, she feels like Daisy is barely keeping it together. Everywhere Jemma looks, she can see signs of the magical world, evidence of witches and wizards too lazy to do anything themselves. Why staple papers when you can charm the supplies to do that for you? What's the point of having magic powers if you can't have your coffee pour itself and mix in the cream and sugar while you have a conversation with someone else? Inter-office memos are far more exciting if they come in the form of soaring birds or scampering rats. The air is constantly sparkling with the pop and dazzle of spells being cast. The photographs on the wall are chatting with one another, moving from frame to frame to get a change of scenery or to better study the newspaper articles for the day. Articles that are also moving. An owl swoops overhead, dropping a Howler onto the desk of someone who probably makes a habit of working too late or forgetting to stop by the grocer's on the way home. House elves are pushing brooms up and down the shining floor or polishing wands and shoes or delivering coffee and tea. There's a woman standing off in the corner who resembles the trolley witch Jemma remembers from her time riding the Hogwarts Express; she's smiling at the people who pass by, offering sweets and other playful items. A chocolate frog hops off the cart and right onto Daisy's shoulder and Jemma reaches for it quickly, tossing it back to the woman and hurrying them along.

Beside her, Daisy is doing her best at remaining stoic and silent but Jemma can't help but get the feeling that she's about to combust. Honestly, she's impressed Daisy's eyes haven't popped right out of her head and she's pretty sure Daisy is going to give herself whiplash as she attempts to take in everything around them. At least the main floor is busy enough that most people aren't paying too much attention to them.

They make it to the elevator bay and Daisy's eyes get huge as she sees the house-elf standing by the switch, waiting impatiently for someone to shuttle around. Jemma clears her throat and Daisy tries to regain some of her composure. "Mr. Nadeer's office, please," Jemma says as she steps into the elevator, hoping that she sounds authoritative and not like she feels like the real authorities are about to drag her away to Azkaban at any moment.

The house-elf grumbles as he slides the gate closed behind Daisy and the elevator whips backward and then up and Daisy reaches out, grabbing onto Jemma to avoid pitching forward. The house-elf looks at her skeptically, not that Daisy notices given the fact that her eyes are squeezed tightly closed.

Jemma smiles at the house-elf, patting Daisy's head. "Poor dear, hasn't quite got the hang of things," she says. "Floo Powder does her the same way; it's a mess, let me tell you."

The elevator snaps to a stop and Daisy groans, leaning on Jemma as they step out of the elevator. "What…"

"You'll get used to it," Jemma assures her, only to rethink her words immediately. It's not like Daisy is going to have a lot of opportunity to ride around in magical transportation devices. Not that Daisy notices the slip up; she's too busy trying to regain her footing.

They walk down the hallway and Jemma feels like the subjects in the portraits on the wall are all watching them. And they don't seem fooled either, especially when Daisy stands in front of one, unable to keep her eyes off the picture of a cat grooming itself. The cat notices and hisses, hopping off the ottoman and disappearing from the frame.

Daisy looks over at Jemma. "Did that-"

"Yes." Jemma takes her hand, tugging her forward. "Paintings can be quite finicky."

Daisy laughs, shaking her head. "I'm never leaving this place," she whispers, grinning. "This is amazing."

Jemma smiles in spite of her nerves. Though, her anxiety returns quickly when they find themselves outside of Vijay's office door. Jemma reaches tentatively forward, relieved to find that the door is locked; she hadn't had a plan in place if he was actually in his office. Thankfully, luck continues to be on their side. All Jemma wants is to get in and out quickly before that luck runs out.

She pulls out her wand, tapping it on the lock. "Alohomora," Jemma whispers and the door swings open.

"You're the bee's knees, seriously." Daisy looks at her in wonder. "Have I mentioned that before?"

Jemma smiles, unable to keep from preening under the attention. The first-year-spell won't be impressing anyone else so she might as well take the compliment where she can. "Well, you can always say it again," Jemma says, pushing the door open and striding confidently into the room.

Which is something she immediately comes to regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell what my favorite piece of 1920's slang is?


End file.
